Chapter 270: Advent of the Heavenly Demon (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 270: Advent of the Heavenly Demon (2)
The fall of Kortas.
Duke Bamford felt a complex mix of emotions upon hearing the soldier's report.
'Dmitry. So this was your plan.'
He couldn't help but be impressed.
Fleeing to the Western Front after capturing Rascal would have been the obvious choice, but Roman Dmitry had gone a step further and seized Kortas. Only now did the Cairo-Dmitry Alliance's strategy make sense. Their willingness to abandon the Western Front just to buy time stemmed from absolute faith: they believed without a doubt that Roman Dmitry would secure the Warp Gate in Kortas.
Yet, alongside that admiration, anger boiled within him.
Dmitry's underlying intentions were glaringly obvious.
'Without the Warp Gate, we are isolated. From now on, any reinforcements will have to use a Warp Gate located hundreds of kilometers away from Kortas. We knew this, yet we didn't heavily reinforce Kortas's defenses. Not because we overlooked its importance, but because even if the enemy pulled off such an absurd operation, it shouldn't have affected the overall tide of the war.'
He was furious.
Duke Bamford's army had swept into the west with a staggering three hundred thousand troops. Even cut off from reinforcements, there was no way the enemy could handle such a massive force in a head-on clash. The Cairo-Dmitry Alliance hadn't intentionally abandoned the Western Front—they had been forced into it by an overwhelming disparity in military strength.
Isolation meant nothing. He could simply sweep Cairo and Dmitry away as they were.
However, Duke Bamford was a cautious man. Though decisive when making a move—just as he had been when he anticipated Flora Lawrence's plan—he always accounted for variables.
'There is only one path the enemy can take now. They will intentionally avoid an all-out war while disrupting our supply lines. With the Warp Gate gone, our logistics are severed. Once our current provisions run dry, there will be no way to feed an army of three hundred thousand.'
Scorched Earth Tactics.
The enemy would undoubtedly destroy all usable food and supplies as they retreated. It was the only way they could create a variable in this war. Duke Bamford immediately summoned his high command. Unrolling a map of the Western Front on a hastily set-up table inside his barracks, he searched for a suitable location.
Swoosh.
"From this moment on, we must prepare for a prolonged war," Bamford declared. "If we push all the way to Cairo's capital, our food supplies will inevitably run dry before we arrive. Assuming Kronos's supply unit reaches the west within a month at the latest, we can completely ruin the enemy's plans as long as we secure enough food to last until then."
"In that case, how about this place?"
One of the commanders pointed to a spot on the map. It was an unnamed castle.
It was merely an uninhabited Old Castle, but according to the Kronos Intelligence Department, the Cairo Kingdom had hidden emergency food supplies there. Conveniently, it wasn't far from the Kronos Empire's current position. Since the Cairo-Dmitry Alliance would never expect the Kronos Empire to know the secret of the Old Castle, capturing it would secure enough food to feed their massive army.
Bamford faced two choices: push forward so rapidly that the enemy wouldn't even have time to enact their Scorched Earth Tactics, or take the safe route.
Normally, he would have chosen the former. However, given Roman Dmitry's erratic, lightning-fast capture of Rascal and Kortas, he judged that blindly charging ahead might lead them straight into a trap. If he managed his forces with stability, there would be no room for variables, and the day he would trample Roman Dmitry's face underfoot would inevitably arrive.
"From now on," Duke Bamford ordered, "we head to the Old Castle."
* * *
The battlefield shifted rapidly.
At Teslo, a Kronos outpost in the east similar to Rascal, troops were urgently gathering.
Atop the castle walls, Baron Zekman, the commander of Teslo, grimaced.
"To think he would use Kortas's Warp Gate to strike our rear. Roman Dmitry truly harbors the absurd dream of defeating the Kronos Empire."
It was baffling.
The force that had warped over numbered only about thirty thousand. With such a meager army, let alone crushing the main forces of Kronos, it was honestly laughable to think they could capture Teslo in a short time. He had no idea what Roman Dmitry was thinking. Though Baron Zekman wanted nothing more than to throw open the gates and take Roman Dmitry's head, an absolute order had come down from Duke Bamford.
"If Dmitry's forces appear, conduct a Siege Defense Operation. What we need is time. For a guaranteed victory, there is no need to play into the enemy's hands."
The Maestro of the Battlefield.
His orders were absolute. No matter how overwhelming the Kronos Empire's military might was, any battlefield graced by Duke Bamford always yielded maximum results with minimal casualties. That was why he was the symbol of their military. For a man like Baron Zekman, disobeying orders out of a desire for personal glory was simply not an option.
Just then, a single man walked forward in the distance.
Seeing that he carried no white flag of parley—and recognizing him as Roman Dmitry—Baron Zekman hurriedly raised his voice.
"Attack! Stop Roman Dmitry from approaching the castle!"
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
A volley of arrows was unleashed.
The sky darkened as a dense rain of steel poured down, looking as if it would turn Roman Dmitry into a pincushion. It was a spine-chilling sight for any ordinary soldier. Even with a shield, the barrage was so dense that finding space to dodge seemed impossible; the arrows threatened to pierce through any gap and tear flesh to shreds.
Yet—
Thud, thud, thud!
Roman Dmitry was already gone from the spot where the arrows landed.
He had vanished. The moment he kicked off the ground, he dashed forward at a speed arrows could not hope to match.
"Stop him! I said stop him!"
Arrows and magic rained from the sky.
The defenders struggled desperately to halt his approach, but even when an attack managed to land, an invisible barrier rendered it completely meaningless. Baron Zekman was at a loss. The gates of Teslo were heavily protected by magic defenses; what on earth was this man thinking, charging in alone?
At that moment—
Boom!
Rumble!
He reached the gates.
Aura flared from Roman Dmitry's sword. Without a moment's hesitation, he swung it toward the massive iron doors.
And then—
Flash!
The onlookers saw it. The sight of solid steel being cleanly sliced apart.
The magic defense barrier, which flared brightly upon activation, was severed in an instant along with the gates.
Crash!
Rumble!
The gates collapsed.
At the same time, the soldiers of the Kingdom Alliance, who had been biding their time, roared in unison.
"Charge!"
"Follow Lord Roman Dmitry and destroy the wicked!"
Teslo.
Their Siege Defense Operation had ended in failure in exactly one minute.
* * *
Once the gates were breached, capturing the interior was only a matter of time.
Faced with the surging forces led by Roman Dmitry, Baron Zekman chose to surrender immediately without putting up a fight.
"We surrender!"
He fell to his knees and raised a white flag.
Although the pride of the Kronos Empire did not permit surrender, Duke Bamford had meticulously prepared even for the scenario of Teslo's fall.
"If you cannot hold the castle for long and must yield it, put up a moderate resistance and then choose to surrender. Guarding a single prisoner requires twice as many soldiers, so your very existence as living captives will inevitably become a burden to them. Yet, they will not be able to kill you. Prisoners can always be used as bargaining chips, so the likelihood of them massacring captives is low, given they must prepare for unforeseen circumstances."
Dmitry was in checkmate. Time was not on their side, nor could they win a total war.
Honestly, while he was genuinely shocked by the martial prowess that had sliced through steel gates, Baron Zekman felt no anxiety about his current predicament. Though his mouth spoke of surrender, behind his grimacing face lay absolute confidence in Duke Bamford's orders.
Thus, the bound soldiers were gathered in one place.
However, the atmosphere was strange. The Dmitry soldiers standing at a distance looked like they wanted absolutely nothing from their prisoners.
'...This is strange. Normally, the standard reaction would be to offer us incentives to extract information, but what on earth are these guys thinking? Surely, they aren't planning to kill us all. That makes no sense. Even if they're holding a grudge over the prisoners captured when the Western Front collapsed, they would never make such a choice.'
The soldiers parted.
It was Roman Dmitry. Walking down the path they cleared, Roman Dmitry grabbed Baron Zekman by the hair without asking a single question.
Grab.
"Argh! Wh-what is the meaning of this?!"
"Are you Baron Zekman, the commander of this place?"
"Y-yes! I mean, y-yes, I am! But why are you doing this? If you want information from me or wish to demand something else, please treat me properly! This kind of treatment is bad for both of us!"
He shouted in panic. Looking down at the man demanding the proper treatment of a prisoner, Roman Dmitry's expression remained ice-cold.
"I want nothing from you."
"...What do you mean by—"
The battle on the Western Front. He had heard that Count Nicholas had died there. And in all likelihood, many soldiers who had failed to escape had been captured as prisoners.
If so, what was his role as a commander?
Would it be right to show moderate mercy to the Kronos prisoners and arrange an exchange to guarantee the lives of the men who had trusted and followed him? Perhaps the commander people desired was such an ideal figure.
But in the life Roman Dmitry—no, the Heavenly Demon Baek Joong-hyuk—had lived, the role of a commander was slightly different.
To ensure that the lives of those who sacrificed themselves were not in vain, he had to secure a decisive victory. He had no intention of driving his remaining soldiers to their deaths just to save the lives of prisoners who had already fallen into enemy hands.
Shring.
He pressed his sword against the man's neck.
Baron Zekman thrashed. He had never imagined that Roman would show such an immediate intent to kill.
"P-please, spare me just this once! If you spare my life, I will give you information that will help Dmitry! And you have to keep us alive so Dmitry's captured soldiers can preserve their lives as well, right?!"
He was denying reality. The Roman Dmitry the world spoke of was cruel, yet he was also a man who cherished his subordinates. That was why Zekman brought up the prisoners. He hoped that for the sake of a prisoner exchange, Roman would spare him.
"You seem to be gravely mistaken." His voice was chilling. "I do not show mercy on the battlefield."
Slash!
Spurt!
Blood sprayed.
Baron Zekman collapsed instantly as blood gushed from his severed neck. His body twitched. He desperately tried to stem the bleeding with trembling hands, but it was a futile effort.
Beyond him, the terrified prisoners watched in horror.
Roman Dmitry spoke coldly, "We take no prisoners. Kill them all."
* * *
At that same hour, Duke Bamford arrived at the Old Castle.
He had expected troops to be guarding the provisions, but not a single soul was to be seen inside.
A bloodless entry. He stepped into the courtyard. To guard against any potential traps, Duke Bamford issued an order.
"There is a possibility that the enemy has already burned the food and fled. Verify the presence of the provisions, and have the mages check the vicinity for magic traps. Only when we are absolutely certain that everything is safe will we bring the troops inside."
"Understood."
If everything seemed too perfect, it was usually a trap rather than a stroke of good luck.
The soldiers moved in perfect order. Only after a considerable amount of time had passed did they return to report, their expressions bright.
"We have secured the food. It is perfectly safe to consume, and if we combine it with our existing provisions, it will easily last us a month."
"There are no magic traps either. We detected no magical energy anywhere in the castle. Just in case, we have set up a magic defense formation that reacts to explosions. If the enemy tries any tricks, it will buy us enough time to respond."
It was perfect.
And because of that, it felt strangely ominous.
Duke Bamford walked over to inspect the provisions with his own eyes. The war supplies were left completely intact.
For some reason, it felt like a thoughtful gesture—as if they were being invited to stay.